Executives often entertain wealthy clients, but James Arrowood’s conversations with them revolve around life, death and what comes after. As CEO of the Alcor Life Extension Foundation, a Scottsdale, Ariz.-based nonprofit focused on cryonics—the practice of freezing human bodies, heads and even pets in hopes that future generations might one day revive them—he oversees a membership of about 1,600 people paying upwards of $100 a month, plus roughly $220,000 for whole-body preservation or $80,000 for neuropreservation (to freeze just the head), a group he says includes around 10 percent of the world’s 50 richest people.
“I’m talking to billionaires when they’re dying,” he told Observer. “None of them care about their bank balance, they don’t even know how much money they have… It’s about relationships, and it’s about their legacy.”
The quest to outrun death is especially popular in Silicon Valley, where billions have been poured into anti-aging and life-extension startups. Alcor, founded in 1972 by engineer Fred Chamberlain and his wife Linda, touts itself as the “OG” of the longevity business, according to Arrowood, a former lawyer who started as outside general counsel before becoming CEO in 2022. “There’s a bunch of big money starting stealth mode companies in the cryonic space,” he said. “They’re pumping tens of millions of dollars, hundreds of millions of dollars now—and they’re all way, way behind.”
Here’s how Alcor’s process works: when a member dies, the organization’s Deployment and Recovery Team (DART)—which Arrowood has expanded to include retired special forces members—moves quickly to transport the body to its Arizona facility. There, patients are infused with a cryoprotective solution, cooled in liquid nitrogen and stored in large Dewar vats under continuous monitoring. Alcor currently has 250 preserved patients, including founder Fred Chamberlain, who was cryopreserved in 2012.
Tech founders, investors and celebrities have all bought into the idea. Peter Thiel is reportedly an Alcor member, as are inventor Ray Kurzweil and producer Steve Aoki. User service fees accounted for roughly 40 percent of Alcor’s $4 million revenue in 2024, according to its most recent tax filings, with the rest coming from donations and investment income.
Whether that money is well spent is a matter of fierce debate. “I can count the number of neuroscientists who think this whole concept is serious on one hand,” Michael Hendricks, an associate professor of neurobiology at McGill University, told Observer. “I think what Alcor is profiting off of is: there’s a very good market for techno-sounding magic beans that you can sell to rich people.”
No human has ever been revived from cryopreservation. James Bedford, the first person to be cryonically frozen in 1967, remains in Alcor’s care after being transferred there in the 1980s. Arrowood concedes that bringing people back is an aspirational goal rather than the organization’s core mission. “Some people hope that’ll be the result, but that’s the lottery ticket,” he said. Instead, he emphasizes applications like keeping donated organs, such as kidneys, viable for longer. “That’s what I’m trying to achieve before I die.”
Who are Alcor’s members?
The ultra-wealthy account for roughly 20 percent of Alcor’s membership. The other 80 percent consist of scientists, artists and athletes, said Arrowood, who noted that many fund their arrangements by naming Alcor as beneficiary of their life insurance policies. He is now focused on reaching more women, who make up only about a third of members, a gap he attributes to men showing more egotistical motivations.
Arrowood is a member himself—he calls himself a “neuro,” since he has opted to preserve only his head. Every board member and executive at Alcor is also enrolled. “They want people incentivized by preservation.”
Interest from the tech elite is part of a broader surge in longevity investing. Ultra-wealthy figures have poured an estimated $5 billion into the sector over the past 25 years, according to a Wall Street Journal analysis. OpenAI CEO Sam Altman has backed Retro Biosciences, which aims to extend human life by ten years, while Amazon founder Jeff Bezos has funded Altos Labs, a biotech firm focused on combating aging. Thiel has donated millions to the Methuselah Foundation.
Alcor, meanwhile, has competition in cryonics itself. The Cryonics Institute Michigan has more than 2,000 members worldwide. Newer entrants include Berlin-based Tomorrow Bio and San Francisco-based Until Labs, which last year raised 5 million euros ($5.8 million) and $58 million, respectively, the latter in a round led by Thiel’s Founders Fund.
Arrowood argues that Alcor’s long history gives it an advantage that money alone can’t buy. The nonprofit, unlike newer ventures, has decades of data on what bodies look like after long-term cryopreservation. “They don’t have it, and they can’t buy it,” he said of would-be rivals, some of whom he claims have tried to acquire Alcor—a nonstarter given its nonprofit status.
He also warns that the emotional and logistical realities of cryonics can surprise executives who see only the financial opportunity. “I’ve had a mother crying over their child, and you have 20 minutes to get that body,” said Arrowood. “If you’re a business person, you’re not going to deal with that.”
For him, that intensity is simply part of the job. His days can involve anything from calling a billionaire client to touring underground mines in Europe, where Alcor—which recently launched a sister operation in Canada—is eyeing further expansion. “It’s the weirdest job on Earth,” he said.
